Lost things
by Alt-format
Summary: After the battle for Chicago in Transformers: Dark of the moon, one young survivor discovers that his motorcycle has been replaced by a Decepticon. Based on a role play.
1. Prologue

**Author's note**

 **This story is based off of a role play that my friend on Transformers: Forged to fight, Dark Hunter28, and I are working on. It's unfinished, but I wanted to publish this. I wrote this prologue to get the story started, and our characters will make a formal appearance in the first chapter.**

 **This is edited from chatroom style, but retains as much of the original feel as possible.**

 **Posted with Dark Hunter28's permission.**

Prologue

The Decepticons have lost, the Earth is safe, but Chicago is a disaster area…

One young survivor watches from the mass of refugees gathered on the outskirts of the city. His motorcycle is parked some distance away, out of sight. He has family elsewhere who he can stay with, so he retrieves his motorcycle and drives away.


	2. First meetings

**Author's note**

 **I apologize for any inaccuracies, repetitions, or confusing parts within this story. We were just writing whatever popped into our heads, and the plot is practically nonexistent.**

 **Michael is Dark Hunter28's OC, and Deadline and Hookblade are mine.**

 **Cast:**

 **Dark Hunter28 as Michael**

 **And**

 **Me as Deadline.**

 **Posted with Dark Hunter28's permission.**

Chapter one: first meetings

Michael drives south to Cincinnati, pulling into the parking lot of a gas station. "Hm, don't remember putting that there." He looks at the Decepticon symbol engraved on the side of his motorcycle.

"That's 'cause you didn't put it there," an unidentified voice hisses.

Michael looks around, trying to find the source of the voice. "Who said that?"

"I did," the voice states. "The name's Deadline."

"Why, you're one of those robots from Chicago!"

"I'm a Decepticon, not a 'robot.' But, yes, I suppose I am."

"What's the difference?"

"I'm sentient. And I'm a pessimist. You don't know any pessimistic robots, do you?"

"No, I don't."

Deadline snickers. "Didn't think so."

"…You're not going to kill me or put Decepticon eggs in me or something, right?"

"What are eggs?" Deadline asks. "And no, I won't kill you… yet..."

Michael gulps.

"I'm a Decepticon. Killing's kind of what we do."

Michael runs away, hiding behind a tree.

Deadline laughs and transforms. "Scared, human? I won't kill you yet;I'm too curious about you." He pauses. "Besides, you're the only available person to talk to."

Michael hesitates for a second. "Oh… OK."

"Come out, I won't hurt you." Deadline smirks.

Michael slowly walks over to him.

"My last partner was offlined by those blasted Autobots."

"What's an Autobot?"

"They're the other group of 'robots' you saw in Chicago. The opposite of the Decepticons."

"The colorful ones?"

"Yeah, them." Deadline huffs. "It always looked rather extravagant for soldiers..."

"They seem more like commandos."

"Same difference."

"You're aliens, right?"

Deadline nods. "We are from the planet Cybertron."

"What made you guys choose to attack Earth?" Michael asks.

"Chance, mostly. Our leader sent the Space Bridge from here, so we came. I don't know any more than that." Deadline narrows his yellow optics. "Someone must not have known about the Autobots' presence here, though," he hisses. "We could have this planet as our own if it wasn't for those idiots! And Hookblade would still be online."

"Well, don't squish me, but I'm glad you failed."

"Of course you're glad we failed. And you have no idea what its like to lose your lifeline."

"Lifeline? Is that someone you're with forever?"

"Its someone who keeps you sane, in my case. I would be ruled by my pessimistic attitude if it weren't for Hookblade… not that I'm not anyway, but it would be worse otherwise."

"I see."

"No, you don't. No one understands why I'm always telling them we're all gonna die… guess we kinda did, actually. I always think that the world's gonna crash down around our heads. Mostly 'cause it did." Deadline looks up at the sky, slightly shaking his head. "That was long ago. You wouldn't understand what millennia of civil war does to a planet."

"You're right. Humans usually only live about a hundred years at best."

"We've been at war for longer than you can imagine. That's why I'm a pessimist. It's a wonder that it's so rare in our species…"

"That seems like a normal reaction for mine."

"You have a lot of pessimists? Guess that's why you don't think I'm all that weird then." Deadline snickers.

"Yep, and we aren't in a war like the one you've described."

"No one's in a war like that except us. We seem to have been forged to fight." Deadline shakes his head and closes his optics. "Depressing, aren't I? Most Decepticons are, for one reason or another. Either that or we're more annoying than anyone can stand." Deadline snickers again.

"I'm still surprised that you haven't killed me yet."

"Like I said, I'm curious. And lonely."

"I'll be your friend, if you want." Michael offers.

Deadline's optics snap open. "You mean it? I've never met anyone except Hook' who liked me enough to be my friend…"

"Really?"

"Most 'Cons hate me because I depress them too much. The funny thing is that I was right in the end…"

"Like humans, they probably just wanted to avoid the truth of the situation."

"Yeah, they always think that they can win if they try hard enough. But the truth is, we can't win. There isn't even anything left to win…" Deadline sighs. "Blasted optimists are blind to what they need to see. What the scrap do they think they can gain when the entire planet is dead?" He shakes his head regretfully. "Primus, I'm the darkest mech you could ever come across. Are you sure that you don't want to leave me to rust and find a motorcycle that won't depress you?"

"Yep. Where else am I gonna find a vehicle that talks to me and threatens my life?" Michael and Deadline laugh. "Why are you even fighting?"

"I don't even know anymore… But I won't kill you now. I may be a piece of scrap, but I'm not that stupid. You're my friend, if you can ever truly be my friend other than out of sympathy. But I'm a Decepticon; I don't need sympathy!" Deadline then adds under his breath, "although it is nice."

"Well, I hope I can be your friend. I didn't think that it was out of sympathy, but it might be." Michael laughs.

"How can it be anything else, after all that us 'Cons did to your home?" Deadline then says in a much lower voice, "not that 'Cons are supposed to care."

"Well, I don't think anything would be different if you were an Autobot except maybe the death threats."

"Perhaps not… but I think that the Autobots care about this planet (for some reason). They care about everything… Somehow that just makes them all that much more unappealing to me."

"Well, for some reason I doubt that."

"I'm finding that I care about you for some reason that I don't know… I don't know anything anymore…"

"It might just be the loneliness clouding your judgment."

"You may be right… But I am sure of one thing: I'm not Autobot material."

"Well, what's the difference between Autobot and Decepticon?"

"They're all selfless do-gooders who want to help whatever they find… except Decepticons. The only thing on that list that describes me is Decepticon."

"Oh," is all Michael can find to say.

"Not what you were expecting, eh?" Deadline asks, bemused. "I don't care. We're all gonna die anyway. What do we think we can do to change that?"

"Why not just leave and not fight?"

"I was done with it all a long time ago, but you can't just leave the 'Cons, or Megatron will find and kill you. Painfully." Deadline pauses. "But don't think that I haven't considered it as an option."

"Megatron?"

"He's the 'great and glorious,'" Deadline makes quotation marks in the air with his fingers, "leader of the Decepticons. About as optimistic as 'Cons come. He's an idiot as far as I'm concerned." He snorts a laugh. "Ironically the Autobots think so too."

"Can they read minds?" Michael whispers, not sure if he wants to know the answer.

"No. Some of us have the ability to read each other's processors, but that's rare. I doubt that it would work on humans anyway. But I'm nothing special."

"You seem special to me."

" I'm not, really. I'm just the only Cybertronian you've met. The only thing different about me is my pessimism."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"I'm different from other Decepticons because I've befriended you, but I'm no more different than that. Except perhaps from the Autobots. "

"If you say so."

"I do. If you knew what some of the others were like, you'd understand better. I'm just another unimportant mech lost in the idiocy of the war." Deadline shrugs, dismissing the point.

"Well, now you're my friend."

"Yes, but I've ranted on myself long enough. It's only fair that you tell me something about you."

Michael thinks for a moment. "Well, my dad died in a war so me and my older brother had to take are of my mom."

"I guess you do understand, in a way..."

"In a way, yeah…"

"I may have underestimated you…"

"People always die. It's just the way you handle life that matters, I guess."

"Yeah." Deadline huffs. "Our 'culture' has come to ignore death because it's just so slagging common now… Within the Decepticon ranks, at least."

"Well, to be fair, you're not just in a war; you decimated one of our cities, killing hundreds of innocents."

"The other Decepticons wouldn't care (they're all dead now anyway), but I do. I apologize for what we did to your friends. As if one mech's apology means anything."

"It does. Maybe you're more different than you think."

"Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps I am different, but there's not much I can go back to now… the 'Cons I knew are gone, and I don't know any Autobots… none who wouldn't just offline me, that is."

"I'll help in any way I can."

"Thank you. You have no idea what friendship means to an ol' war-torn mech like me."

 **Author's note**

 **There are two notable references in Deadline's dialogue. One is to the game whose chatroom we were using to make this, Transformers: Forged to fight. The other is to the Transformers: Animated version of Lugnut, who is always saying how 'great and glorious' Megatron is.**

 **The next chapter will be posted as soon as the role play reaches a good point to end a chapter on again, and I edit it into story form.**


	3. Cincinnati

**Author's note**

 **Hunter's roles are:**

 **Michael;**

 **Harry (Michael's brother);**

 **Michael's mom.**

 **My roles are:**

 **Deadline;**

 **Nathan (Michaels nephew; Harry's son);**

 **Tonya (Harry's wife).**

Chapter two- Cincinnati

Michael pulls into a driveway and parks, saying, "wait here, Deadline, I'll be back."

"Okay," Deadline answers.

Nathan bounds out of the house, yelling, "Uncle Mike! Uncle Mike!"

"Ah, who are you?" Michael crouches down to Nathan's level, smiling. "You can't be Nathan, Nathan's way smaller!"

Nathan pouts for a second. "I am too!" He smiles again. "You have a motorcycle? Awesome!"

Michael hugs Nathan. "Yep."

"Will you give me a ride sometime?"

"Maybe."

"Yay!" Nathan cheers.

"When we do I'll get you ice cream, how's that sound?"

"Awesome! Thanks, Uncle Mike!"

"You're welcome, little guy"

Nathan bounces excitedly, calling, "dad, Uncle Mike's here!"

Harry runs outside. "Mike!"

"Hey…" Michael greets his brother.

Tonya sticks her head out of the door. "Hi, Mike."

"Hello." Michael hugs everyone.

"Were you in Chicago when the robots attacked?" Nathan asks.

"Yeah, I saw some of it."

"What was it like?"

"Now, Nathan, I'm sure your uncle doesn't want to talk about it," Tonya chides.

"Let's all go inside," Harry suggests.

Tonya leads Nathan back inside as Michael glances back at Deadline, then follows his brother inside.

"I'll make some tea," Tonya offers, "and we can catch up."

"Sounds good," Michael agrees.

"Do you want black or green?"

"Green tea."

"Okay, I'll be back in a couple minutes."

Nathan flops onto the couch. "Sit with me, Uncle Mike!"

Michael sits down next to Nathan, then suddenly remembers something. "Oh, I got you something."

"Yay!"

Michael takes his backpack off and opens it, Nathan trying to peek inside. "Now, where is it?" he mumbles. "Here we go." He pulls out an action figure and passes it to Nathan.

"Cool! Thanks, Uncle Mike!"

Tonya returns with the tea as Michael asks, "where's mom?"

"She's sleeping," Harry responds.

Nathan plays with his new action figure while Michael sips his tea.

"what's it like living in Chicago?" Tonya asks.

"It was nice," Michael answers.

"Good."

"Until the robots showed up, right" Nathan adds.

"Yeah," Michael admits.

"Did you see one up close?"

"Closer than you'd believe," Michael whispers conspiratorially.

"Awesome!"


End file.
